Hospitality
by deathunit100010
Summary: She needs help, he provides it. She wanted to be safe, he provided it as well. She began having feelings for him. He isn't sure if its what he wants. Human/Quarian pairing. Tali/Shep tag for future scenes. Rated: M, MA for later chapters.
1. Another day

**A 'redo' that takes place on Omega.**

**This chapter is meant to express just how bad things are. Did i nail it...?  
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><p>"Come on you little bosh'tet...!"<p>

With a few twists of an internal core, the dim light the machine used to give off gave a high-pitched beep. The quarian stopped her movements and observed the light with increased excitement. It brightened, and brightened and brightened until it began beeping.

"What the..." As it began shaking in her hand, she was quickly becoming uncertain and worried. '_It may be working. If i throw it now, it may never work again! Or it might be prepping to explode and if i hold it, i can kiss my hand and majority of my arm goodbye!_'

Hey options rambled on almost as fast as her heart increased its pace in uncertainty. As soon as the dim light flashed violently, she tossed it away in a yelp of fear and covered her head in a vain attempt for instinctual protection, closing her eyes as well. No sooner had she tossed it, the device gave one final, long beep and shorted out a short distance from her, a large puff of smoke exiting the device before a spark flew from the now-entirely-useless machine.

Opening an eye unsurely, she saw the tool in its destroyed glory. Removing her hands from her helmet, she perked her head up and inspected it from where she sat. She gritted her teeth at yet another failure and clenched her fists in building anger. "Damn it!" she shouted, a fist raised in need of something to punch.

Her fist shook and eventually relaxed as the quarian gave a saddened sigh. Another failure…

Staying on the floor she sat, she remained quiet until she eventually moved over to the device, moving it close and inspecting it with a lone finger. Maybe there were some wires that weren't completely burned…

She sighed to herself once more upon finding that the device as a whole, everything in it included, was now even more useless than she was. She tossed it to a small pile of scrap that lay in the corner of her 'room'. Thinking about the room itself, she gave yet another inspection of the dainty, excessively used and untidy 'apartment' that was given to her with what little she could afford.

It was, at best, a room for one. That was all. One. By quarian standards, it could fit at least three of her kind, a family, in its small dimensions, but even that could have been questionable. All that existed in it was a single bed, as small as it was, and a pile of scrap, _her_ pile of scrap.

She sighed to herself again and shook her head. She came to Omega like any pilgrim, wondering if the station, in how 'famous' it was in being on the verge of collapse due to poor maintenance, may have needed help. She'd seen what they'd done to her fellow quarians. The lucky ones were left to survive on the streets with nothing but their suits.

She had, at times, wondered what was done with the female quarians, as seeing one roaming was something she'd never seen. The answer was simple, and revolting. Now she understood why there had been signs _advertising_ quarian females.

She never left her apartment without her pistol.

Leaning back against the rusted walls of the apartment itself, she opened her omni-tool and accessed its storage, pulling up a picture of a few people, but paying attention to the ones she wanted to go back to.

"Hey mom. Hey dad." she whispered with a half smile. "Today's been another failed attempt at getting something to work. I'll try something again soon or at least tomorrow." Running something she figured they'd say, she gave a single chuckle. "I know, I don't like this place either. Not much you can do with a few hundred credits and an old omni-tool."

A banging came from the door, interrupting her discussion. Her head sharply turned and waited a second before a voice came.

"Come on quarian, the rents due." the familiar voice called. Takard, the turian. Always forceful when it comes to paying and always quick to add another ten credits if you don't have the money the day he wants it.

"I don't have the credits today, sir." she replied from where she sat. "I can have it by tomorrow though."

She heard some grumbling. "Fine, but you can expect another ten to what you already owe." With that, or so it seemed, he left her door and walked off to wherever it is he walked off to. She never paid him any attention aside from rent.

She found herself becoming sad as she thought about what she owed. It was already fifty, now it was sixty. She was having trouble enough as it is and she had yet to buy some paste tubes. This could be it, her last week in an actual place…

Her knee's came to her chest and she swatted the thought away. On Omega, such thoughts lead you to your death, or anything close, quickly. She had to remain determined, had to be positive. If she didn't…

Her mind went back to the picture, looking at the short collection of quarian in the single, poor-resolution picture. Her friends, her family. She gave a saddened sigh.

"I'll get out of this, mom, dad." she said softly. "I'll get out of here, find a pilgrimage gift and go back. I wont stop until I do." She took the words to heart with determination. With a half-smile, she added, "I'll be back in no time if I'm as positive as I was back on the fleet."

She kept herself quiet after that, looking at the figures in the picture closely. After a while she began to shake and pulled her knees closer to her, her arms hooking them in place and keeping herself balled up. She came here to fast, too soon. She was too inexperienced. She was losing faith in herself.

Holding herself tightly, she fought the urge to cry at where she found herself. She breathed in in a gasp, blinking somewhat rapidly in a vain attempt to keep herself from bringing up tears. Looking at the picture, she tried placing herself back to where she was on that day, happy, enjoying herself.

Her fingers came to her optic, somewhat shakily, and pressed themselves on the mouthpiece. She gave a silent kiss and brought her fingers to her parents, a finger on each.

"I'll be back." she said shakily in truth that she was rapidly beginning to doubt. She hugged herself even more tightly. "I'll be back…"

For the rest of the day, she didn't move. For the rest of the day, she looked at the picture of the life she was had and wanted to get back to. Only minutes into the day, she cried and only after an hour of crying did she fall sleep, floating into a world where everything was great and Omega never existed, in the loving embrace of a mother and a father she feared she'd never see again.


	2. Burden of a Mercenary

**Same night, different person  
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><p>Afterlife, Omega's main attraction.<p>

The music was loud, constant, complimented with rays of neon lights and half-naked asari displaying their assets to the countless patrons that walked in rich and walked out poor. The lights, the colors, the music and the women did nothing to cloud his judgment. He saw it for what it was. A black hole for credits.

The patrons left them alone, some of the mercs eyed them cautiously, well, the ones that weren't drunk that is. Like any other night, they would make a weekly visit to Afterlife, order their drinks without so much a word to the waitresses, and talk through a private link to each other.

They were from a small-time merc group, 'Black Guard' as they so called themselves. A group of mercenary volunteers who protected their small portion of Omega with keen eyes and pre-set weapon points. Every point into their district was watched carefully, the same for every point out. The group gained fame for its protection of people under its custody, ironically also making them infamous.

The safest group received the wealthiest customers. On Omega, safety was everything, and so were creds.

With the troubles the many factions were going through with however, they were forced to turn a blind eye towards the small group of mercs. It was the perfect setup.

Now, discussing plans with each other, the four Black Guard members, clad in their dark armor, spoke amongst themselves while trying to keep an eye out for anyone who may even look suspicious.

"Rik?" the human asked. The salarian opened his omni-tool and ran through its many keys rapidly. Closing the tool only seconds later, the salarian nodded.

"Channel's as secure as I can make it."

"Vladik?" the human turned to the large, burly krogan, the only one in the group, if not their entire merc group, who was krogan. He snorted heavily through his nose.

"Not a thing on my end."

"Reyna?" the human now turned to the female, the asari. She took a while to respond.

"Nothing."

The human nodded. "Good. Today's reports won't take long, so we should only be here for a short while. Rik," the Salarian paid close attention. "the cameras in sector 12b are down again. It's by one of the malfunctioning power cells. Either fix the camera, or requisition another cell so we won't have to recalibrate it every three days." the Salarian nodded.

"Vladik," the krogan didn't bother turning his head. "patrons in the west sector are complaining about vorcha sightings. I want you to go there and sit tight for a while, maybe an hour or so, if there are vorcha, they'll figure you left and they'll eventually come out. I know we've had reports for a while, so I want to make sure this isn't another damn attempt for them to sneak into our district and sabotage our operations. Our clients there are scared enough as it is."

The krogan grunted once. The human turned to the asari, the used-to-be leader of their little troop. "Reyna, position Bravo-2 needs another ammo dropoff. Reports detail on more Blue Sun merc sightings and, with the amount of warning shots fired, we really need another set of ammunition, plus a space pack if they try things. Leave a note for the men. Two warning shots, that's all. The third goes for the leg, the fourth the shoulder, the fifth, kill shot."

The asari nodded. With the team in understanding, Zane leaned back in his seat. "I'll be stationed at the safe house in sector 2A. Balcony, as always. I'll watch the second main street down the scope of the Mantis until team four's shift begins. Until then, keep comm chatter at a minimum until something happens. Clear?" The group nodded once more. Zane sighed and nodded slowly.

"That concludes the meeting, then." A waitress approached them, placing a drink on the table directly in the center before retreating back. As soon as she was out of sight, Rik shook his head. Sensing his teammates eyes were on him, he couldn't help but explain what was bothering him. He leaned onto the table, an elbow on one side, a finger tracing patterns on the other.

"We help people, we kill the mercs who try and make life hell for people who already don't have anything and we try making Omega safe one sleazy district at a time." he leaned back, swaying a hand in the air once. "We do all this and they're afraid of us, afraid of the peacekeepers."

"No one said they'd love us." Vladik replied in his deep voice, shrugging. "Do what I do. Read a brochure, skip to where is says 'expected income' and take the job if it pays enough."

"I figured that was the only reason you do this, the credits."

"It's not always for the credits." the krogan replied. "It pays to have _some_ justice done around here. I killed more men than you will in your lifetime salarian. Probably because I'm at least forty times older than you. I stopped killing because it's lost its meaning." He snorted once more. "It's what kept me from charging into Patriarchs home in the first place, all those centuries ago."

"Cut it." the human finally spoke up, not moving from his relaxed position. "Keep the stories for later, this is the only time we have to ourselves in a place we can enjoy it. Try relaxing for once."

"Why don't you relax, Vastrikov?" the krogan replied. "Being the leader of this small band of wanna-be-heroes, you deserve to get drunk just about as much as we do."

"I don't drink." It earned him a scoff from the asari. "Not here." he amended. "You drink, you lose yourself, you lose yourself, you indulge yourself blindly, do anything blindly, you lose everything. Lose everything, you die. It's the way of Omega, has been for… well, forever." turning to the krogan, he concludes, "It's why I never drink here."

"It's why we don't either." the krogan replied, nodding.

"He has a point." the salarian pointed out, gesturing a hand towards the bottle of brandy on the table. "We come here and we supposedly have a good time, but like everything else, we come and we go, not actually drinking anything. Like that bottle, nothing will change, at least not with us."

"So, no more trips to Afterlife?" Zane asked. The team looked at him, giving him their silent answers. He nodded. "We stay." The team relaxed once more. It wasn't every day they were able to leave their orderly district. Since their faction began cleaning up Omega one spire at a time, things had become rather dull with the loss of vorcha and the caution of the rival factions.

Surely enough, they all figured the factions would, at some point, try an all-out assault on their district, try and get their wealthy or near-wealthy clients back, but the Black Guard were too organized, a perk of the small gang. Aside from the variations of medium to heavy armor most of them wore, the ones with light armor proved deadliest due to additional stamina and speed. Another reason Vastrikov was the leader.

Cutting his brief reminiscing short, Zane sat up straight and kept his ears, or at least his audio receptors, to a calming low, closing his eyes and listening. It was a strange habit of his. He would only hear the main beats as faint zooms while the loud bangs of the speakers came as patterned thuds. He couldn't explain it, but it helped him think, focus. Perhaps one of the only reasons he brought them to Afterlife for debriefs and 'social time'.

Vladik looked over to their 'fearless leader', young but experienced. He briefly remembered meeting him; a timid, reserved youth who followed orders and was nearly always quiet. It wasn't until an attempted assault by the Blood Pack a year and some months ago that forced the youth to come out of whatever shell he lived in and take command. It was a dark day for vorcha everywhere. Aside from two other individuals in the Black Guard, Zane was one of the few he wouldn't mind following.

He snorted heavily to himself and looked off to the center, observing the asari dancers with no form of need or interest. They were entertainment, nothing more.

Rik was the most jumpy of the lot; jumpy being him never looking at one location for long. He was jumpy for good reason, nearly always in any occasion being within the zone of danger, always near or directly at the location where a fight did in fact break out, and always quick to draw his weapons. Aside from being the youngest of the crew, by experience, he was, nonetheless, their assigned tech expert.

For the moment, the salarian busied himself with the scenery, only wondering briefly as to what to do later on in the day and, at times, whether he should, against his friends wishes, indulge in the asari of the club. There certainly was no shortage of them, and he _was_, by salarian standards, slowly drifting to that part of his age where a love life would be little of an option. He couldn't help himself, really. He'd only been with a woman twice and the tastes made him beg for more. Simply staying seated was a sign of his restraint.

He silently thanked his training.

Reyna… she had more mystery to her, even a slight mystery to Vladik, who had been with her from the start as a team member, not as a friend. It was easy to determine that she was, at the least near two-hundred, give or take, but that information did little in terms of helping them figure out her story, that is 'if' her story was worthwhile. When you know nothing of a person who looks entirely meaningless, you develop interest. Zane figured it out long ago.

The group leader looked at each of his team members slowly, remembering briefly times good and bad that he had with them. He nodded and could feel himself beginning to grin, if not briefly.

They really were a group of wanna-be heroes.

…

"The last time I hang with you lot." the burly krogan muttered.

"But we didn't do anything." the salarian replied, jogging just behind the krogan in an attempt to catch up with him. The krogan waved a hand in the air nonchalantly.

"Exactly. Nearly thirty minutes of doing nothing but sitting down and thinking to ourselves and enjoying the scenery, and not so much a word from the lot of you after the debrief was finished." he stopped a distance away. "Times like this I wonder if I should hang up the suit and call it quits."

The salarian felt like replying. Zane walked past them, Reyna close behind. Passing the krogan, the leader looked around at the scenery just outside of Afterlife, the large door closing behind them. "You won't quit. Can't quit what you love doing." Hearing a grunt from the krogan, he replied, "You just won't admit it."

"Try not making us look like fools out in the open, Rik." Reyna said looking around. "We have an image to keep, don't want it ruined with your childish antics."

"Not childish, inexperienced. I'm only thirteen." Rik replied. It didn't stop him from stopping his non-caring actions and look around. A small group of Blue Suns were just in the way of their exit. Like any other time, it would probably end in the same way, a threat and a sneer. Looking to Zane, he observed the leader as he looked at the group. With only a few seconds wasted, Zane took his first few steps down and walked towards the transports. Rik followed casually.

The group stayed close to each other, moving slowly but fluidly towards the transports. It would have been undisturbed had the Suns not perked their head in their direction, muttered, chuckled and boasted to themselves Vastrikov was certain they would try something, a move, but nothing happened. They reached the gap and exchanged glares with the Suns briefly without stopping.

They'd try something, _something_, soon. He'd have to be very keen during his shift tomorrow.

Stopping by the transport, he stood by the vehicle and kept an eye on the Suns, a few turians and a human looking at him and his troop. They muttered to themselves, but still eyed him. Zane kept his eyes on them as well.

Yes, they 'were' planning something.

With the krogan inside, Zane kept an eye on the Suns for only a brief while longer before moving in and taking a seat in the vehicle. Turning to his salarian squad mate, the tech specialist ran through his omni-tool and nodded, muttering "Clean" and closing his omni-tool.

So there were no explosives. With Omega, you can never be too sure where there _was_ an explosive, or where there wasn't. They waited patiently for a short while longer before the vessel lifted off and made its way to their district. None of the four members felt safe either way. Not until they reached their turf.

Leaning back, Vastrikov sighed to himself.

Just another night in hell.


End file.
